


Incessant

by Arisprite



Series: By Grace, We Are Saved [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is not a morning person, Gen, M/M, Not so medicinal drug use, Phone messages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, it was the middle of the night, he could still feel the drugs in his system, and Dean was calling him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incessant

**Author's Note:**

> So, Mother Superior jumped the gun a little bit, and this story was supposed to go before "Need". It might clear up a few things.

Castiel woke to his phone beeping. Incessantly.

Growling, Castiel rolled over and dug his hand into the front pocket of his bag, hit some buttons at random and managed to silence the damn thing without opening his eyes. He fell back into an uneasy sleep. 

It started to ring a few minutes later, jolting him out of the uneasy dreams he’d fallen into. 

He flipped over again, supported on his elbows, with the covers pulled up to his neck, and stared at the bedspread, where his phone was lit up once more, innocently. 

“Wha..?”

Thinking it could be Charlie, thought she was staying in the next room over, he picked it up, and blinked at it with gummy eyes. 

**Dean Winchester** , the caller ID said. 

Castiel slammed the phone on the wood, the shock rushing through his whole body. 

He didn’t answer it. It was dark in the room, just after midnight, but he’d been dead on his feet by the time they got home. Dinner was a picked at daze, and then Charlie had left him alone, and Castiel quickly realized he didn't want to think. Digging deep into the pocket of his bag, he pulled out the half full bottle of pain medication. He hadn’t needed as many as he’d been prescribed...but they’d made him sleep. And that was all he wanted. He took two, and fell back into his bed, leaving his bag beside him. He’d fallen asleep quickly. 

Now, it was the middle of the night, he could still feel the drugs in his system, and Dean was calling him. 

The phone went dark after another two rings, and Castiel squinted as he pressed the button to light up the screen again. Two   
missed calls. Dean had called him _twice_.

Castiel took the phone and stuffed it under the pillow on the other side of the bed. Then he turned around, and dug his face in his own pillow, and slid back into darkness. 

The morning sun was too bright. Castiel groaned as he tugged the covers over his head. He thought motels were supposed to have covered windows, but this motel was apparently deficient in that area, and the sun was streaming in, and hitting the exact spot his face had been in. He felt hung over, even though he hadn’t really had any alcohol since he was an angel, but his head was wobbling with a headache, and his mouth felt dusty. 

He dragged his body into a crouch, draggin the bed covers over his hunched shoulders, and stretched like a cat, yawning hugely. Rubbing at his headache, and feeling his hair standing on end, he thought perhaps a shower was in order. He didn’t feel even slightly human, let alone the fallen angel he was. 

As he pulled his legs off the bed, the pillow on the other side of the bed began to ring. He turned, and vaguely remembered his phone ringing last night, and trying to muffle it under the pillow. He took it out, and blinked as the phone lit up again.   
It was Dean. Again. He’d called twice last night, and as the current call came to an end (he didn’t answer it) other notices began to pop up, causing it to beep and vibrate almost frantically. 

Fourteen missed calls. Seven voicemails. And one text from Sam, that just read _Sorry_. 

Castiel put his head into his hands, covering his eyes. This was too much, he’d wanted Dean to turn around, not nag him all night. Which apparently he’d done, as the first few calls were in the early hours of the morning, up until now....he glanced at the clock, almost lunch time. He frowned. And then rubbed at his head some more. 

He couldn't do this right now. He needed a shower, and some food. Desperately needed some water. He wanted some more pain medicine. (It was with a tiny bit of regret that he decided to have the ibuprofen, and not his precription stuff). What he _didn’t_ need was Dean’s voice in his ear. Not now. 

Later, after drowning out his thoughts with pounding too hot water, and eating some of the food he still had from Charlie’s grocery runs (some pastries that were supposed to be put in a toaster, but that he liked better cold and crunchy) he took his phone and pressed the buttons to get to the voicemail. Then he sat, and braced himself. 

“Hey, Cas. Sam gave me this number. I...uh...I know I didn’t react... _well_ today. I’m sorry.”

“Hey Cas. I know you’re not going to answer, but I’m used to white noise on the other end...just good to know that technically this does get to you, even if you don’t listen.”

“Listen, Cas. You do realize it was kind of an asshole move to show up out of nowhere, when _I thought you were dead_ and expect me to be all smiles and would-you-like-some-tea, right? You do get that? Look, give me a second to adjust.”

“This would all go over a lot better if you’d just call. Don’t even call. Just come over, man. I know I was the one that ran but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fix this.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t turn around yesterday. I know it probably took a lot to come.”

“Cas, this is ridiculous. Just get your ass over here.”

“You son of a b-”

Castiel closed the phone.


End file.
